My Dear Darling Alice!
by maskofjack
Summary: Assumes Alice is a few years older than in the books. The boy from "Jabberwocky" sets off to slay the Jabberwock while writing Alice a letter of his trials. T just because I'm not sure if Death is a minor adult theme.


Brillig. It's a gray atmosphere where a small wind blows in the background. It happens when the wabe saddens, when something strikes her soul. Oh, but love!, the wabe is but the Earth's canvas—our home! Brillig! That emotion! That condition! It depresses everything- even the toves in those naturally graceful slithes! Oh- Alice- if only you knew! Our slithes are like your rivers! But with _personality_, for, my love, everything in our looking glass world has a soul. The slithes change to match the lonesome tone of our scape. Toves—well ehm—I suppose they seem to gyre by the slithe's current. Or… or do they gimble? Perhaps a mixture of both in our topsy-turvy little world? Can you even imagine, my dear? Don't you know of my wabe, my word? Don't you know it's but a refraction of your own, your Earth? My darling, I am a paradox!

And perhaps by this sentence in my letter—if my love, you have been blessed enough to receive it—you have begun to wonder why the wabe has been made cold? Well, you see, it has been perplexed, worried, by the presence of evil. Of monsters! Of the Jabberwock, the Jubjub Bird, the Bandersnatch! These are why—my darling Alice—these are why mome raths are outgrabe and borogroves mimsy! The wabe hates to see her creatures sad, and yet her creatures fear the monsters. The Bandersnatch—the ever so frumious Bandersnatch—torments the borogroves and thus they are aloof! The JubJub Bird soars through the sky, over the toves and across the wabe looking for mome raths to devour! However, humanity has an enemy far worse than that both Bird and Snatch! For we are hunted by none other than the Jabberwock!

The Jabberwock has eyes of flame—they detect us, hunt us, paralyze us! His claws are designed to catch, to rip! His jaws bite us, impale us! Oh ALICE to ensure your _safety_ I must fight! My darling, my darling your coming is soon and you must be protected. That, my sweet, is why I am off to slay the Jabberwock! My vorpal sword is shining but he is yet to arrive! So manxome, arrogant, unpredictable, and haughty is my foe! Oh ghastly Jabberwock! Oh my dear darling Alice! I've walked so long and hard, many a step and a skip to get to his land. I have rested here by this Tumtum tree to write you this letter and—

Oh dear Alice, this uffish condition has me so lost! I swear that I could have just heard a stick snap. Or—oh Alice, I did hear the snap of the stick, and now a flame I spot! Alice, my love, what is this fiend? Was I not properly warned? The flame, the flame, oh eyes of flame! He's coming through the tulgey wood! It's snapping and he's- he's _burbling! _My dear Alice, that is his cry! His snarl and bark and howl! Oh my darling now is my time to slay!

My blade, my blade, it's snickering and snacking! A hit, numbered one, and he claws my back as I fly across the wabe! He lunges at me, at my heart! Oh my love, Alice, is this the end of me? Oh my Alice, hit two!! He has flown back but his blazing gaze has burned me! A-another hit, one or two? Darling, this exhaustion is killing me! My love, with the last hit, he dies! Yes, yes as my blade goes through and through on blade strike two it lays dead; I claim its head.

While I galumph back to town I realize the extent of these contusions. Oh dear Alice, if I lose this life will you still read my letter? There, there is the town, Alice, I-I-I cannot make it. I hear the old man's chortling—he cannot read my pained features! My lady, my lady, this day he calls frabjous? Oh Alice, if there is worse a word than frabjous to describe this day shall he find it? Oh, oh "Callooh", oh "Callay!" My sweet he _has_ found them! His joy it- it is ruined, for so am I. I am slipping far off into the darkness and-and is there a light? Oh how can I let you see this letter? I cannot simply disturb your soul so violently! Perhaps- perhaps the old man can construct something less graphic? Perhaps he may create a poem, and canst is start thus:

"Twas Brillig and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.

All mimsy were the borogroves,

And the mome raths outgrabe."


End file.
